Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
BOSTON
The club lights faded behind me as Soren and Marcus walked ahead, and that’s when I saw her.
She was sitting alone in that little diner across the street, head bent over her phone, a faint smile on her lips like she owned the place.
That blue hair was bright enough to catch the neon, and soft enough to look effortless.
The sight of her struck every nerve ending I didn’t even know I had.
She was wearing that black leather jacket I’d seen her in before, sleeves pushed up just enough to show the tattoos along her forearm.
She looked … comfortable.
Dangerous in her calm.
I didn’t even realize I was moving in her direction, my eyes locked on her the whole time, noticing the tilt of her head, the way she crossed her legs, the ease of her posture.
The diner was quiet, almost deserted, yet she sat there like she was completely in her element.
Heat crept up my neck and down my spine, straight to my cock.
I’d had to remind myself to look composed. To rein in how she set me off.
Of course, Soren and Marcus noticed my reaction before I could hide it.
Marcus smirked, Soren glanced back, and my mind immediately went back to that night at the party when Marcus hit on her.
I was only able to keep that prick of jealousy in check because Maven shot him down without missing a beat.
I even glanced back after I left, to see that she was still sitting there, licking the cream from her fingers like she did when I was beside her.
She did it to get a rise out of me, and she did in a way that drove me so fucking wild, I couldn’t help myself when I put her finger into my mouth.
It tasted as good as I imagined, but I have a feeling she tastes even sweeter.
And then there was the fucking cake. It dismantled me for a second. My father had never bothered getting me a cake, and as soon as she discovered it was my birthday, she didn’t even hesitate.
Groaning, my head drops to my hands as I sit at my desk. I really shouldn’t have drank last night. I wasn’t lying when I told her I don’t drink often.
Rolland drops some paperwork in front of me and then laughs when I grunt at the sight of it.
“Bad night?” he asks.
“Hangover.”
“Got something to cheer you right up,” he says.
“Unless it’s coffee, you don’t have fuck all,” I reply with a groan.
“No, but it’s about that woman you asked about.” I turn to face him. “Carrie James.”
“And?”
“She just got arrested.” He nods to the paperwork. I glance down at it, confused at what I find. She was caught at an illegal poker game with a few others. “Do you want to question her?” he asks.
“Yes.” I get to my feet, and he leads me to the interrogation room she’s currently occupying.
“Happy birthday,” he says, walking off with a wave. As soon as I enter the room, Carrie raises her head. She looks tired. Clearly, she’s had no sleep. I shut the door behind me.
With the paperwork in hand, I pull the chair out and take a seat across from her. I set out the pictures that prove why she’s here.
“I didn’t know what it was,” she says, biting her lip. I sit back as she starts to ramble. Each word is a lie falling from her lips. “Honestly, I went there by mistake, and they told me to sit.” She blinks a few times, fidgeting with her hands.
Then the door opens suddenly, and Maven and a man stand there.
“Her lawyer,” Rolland says from behind them.
Maven scans the room as they enter, taking everything in. Her gaze lingers on her sister, concern in her features, and maybe a little bit of annoyance. She covers it quickly as her attention moves to me. She forces a smile and offers me a small wave.
“Hello, Detective.”
“Maven.”
I stand when the lawyer asks for privacy to speak with Carrie. Maven follows me out of the room, and Rolland stands nearby as she stops next to me.
“So, since you know how I taste now, when do you plan to take me out?”
Rolland coughs, then starts choking on whatever it is he has in his mouth. I lean over and hit his back a few times, and he holds up his hands when he’s breathing properly, then he walks away.
“Was that necessary?” I ask her.
She leans against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest, which pushes up her breasts. “I think so.” She shrugs. “How’s my sister doing?” She changes the subject. “What about a blowjob and you let her walk?” She waggles her brows, and I get the distinct feeling she isn’t joking.
“No.”
She rolls her eyes. “So professional,” she mocks.
“Your sister likes to cause a lot of trouble,” I state.
She stands taller, and a concern I’ve only briefly seen flashes in her eyes. She cares a lot about that woman in the room behind us, that much is obvious.
I lean in close, catching a whiff of that fucking vanilla scent, and say, “Hope your lawyer is good.” Then I turn and walk off.
She chuckles, and for some reason, I want to go back and spank her fucking ass.